


Touch

by concavepatterns



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, improper use of mythical beard oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/pseuds/concavepatterns
Summary: They touch each other so freely. They always have.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 31
Kudos: 136





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'm just going to dip my toe into this fandom, they won't even kiss in my first fic.  
> Me, one week later: WELP, TIME FOR THE SMUTS

They touch each other so freely. They always have.

Laughing, playful shoves as kids. Gripping hands and dragging each other through fields and forests, down sun-warmed asphalt roads, eager to share whatever little oddity the other had found. A cool tree, a big rock, a newly discovered shortcut across the river.

Later, it was wrestling in their college dorm. Tackling and roughhousing and Rhett pulling his 'I'm dead' move until Link was flushed in the face and struggling to shove the bulk of all that weight off of him.

And now that they’re adults, it’s all about the silly innuendos. Tilting mouth-first into Rhett's chest to blow hot breath into his t-shirt. Dramatically gripping each other's faces to draw a laugh from their audience.

It's always been for a laugh, and Link is fine with that.

Really, he is.

But then there are the quieter moments. The ones that aren't orchestrated for the purposes of comedy. Elbows or knees or shoes brushing as they lounge side by side on the LTAT couch. Side-eyed glances and half smiles traded in passing like their own secret language. Which, Link supposes, it probably is. You don't get through thirty-five years of knowing someone without being able to read their subtleties like the back of your own hand.

So yeah, it's always been there. That instinctive pull to be within each others' bubbles, a rope hooked up to both of them that only extends so far. Though it's only lately that they've gotten so much bolder about it.

It's almost becoming a game at this point. Touch chicken. How long can he get away with gripping Rhett's thigh? How long is Rhett willing to chance staring openly at him? Unspoken dares that leave his stomach swooping in a weightless combination of nerves and excitement, like back when they were kids doing something they knew they shouldn't've. That giddy feeling of being co-conspirators. Partners in crime.

Link has no idea how the whole game started - who made the first move and all that - but he's pretty sure he's losing at this point. Not really surprising given his track record.

All he knows is that their dynamic sure ain't two dudes chillin' in a hot tub five feet apart. More like two dudes crammed into one crappy excuse for a bathtub, knocking knees and touchin' butts. Plus Sprite.

Unconventional? Yes.

But they always did want to be trailblazers, Link thinks, so at least there's that.

* * *

Like all things do, it has to come to a breaking point. Realistically, they can't exist in this weird, nebulous space forever.

Link lives in a constant state of anticipation of that moment - stuck with the feeling of holding his breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop - for what feels like an eon. It gets him antsy. Makes him feel all unfocused and stuff.

He's getting lost in his own head a lot these days, and it shows when Rhett throws a balled-up piece of notepad paper directly at his head, pinging off his temple and startling Link back to the present, which currently happens to be the quiet, cozy workspace of their office loft.

Rhett hasn't lost any of his basketball accuracy over the years, that's for sure. His shot packs a surprising amount of sting for just being paper.

"What the heck, man?" Link automatically makes a face, scooping up the runaway ball and whipping it back in Rhett's direction. He misses by a solid foot and it would be embarrassing, but it elicits a pretty great laugh from Rhett - one of those sudden, booming ones that make his eyes crinkle and cheeks go all round - so Link can't find it in him to feel too sore about it.

"You're on another planet, brother," Rhett explains, still chuckling. "I must've called your name three times already."

"Oh." Feeling a little sheepish, Link rubs at the spot where the ball had hit him. "Sorry, just thinkin' bout stuff."

That seems to sober Rhett up and he leans forward in his seat, elbows on knees as his eyes flick up and down Link like he's doing a visual inspection for anything that might be amiss. "You want to share?" The way his voice goes all rumbly and concerned makes Link's insides squirm. "I'm all ears if you've got anything you need to get off your chest, man."

"It's nothing," Link says, not a lie but not quite the truth. None of it really _means_ anything, he reasons. Just chalk it up to being another fleeting, anxious thought his brain's so kindly decided to add to its ever-present pile. New Worry: Touch Edition.

Rhett frowns but lets it slide, slapping his palms down onto his knees before standing up abruptly. "Well, we have been at it a while. I'd say we're due for a break." He glances over at their emergency nap bed that's pushed up against the far wall of the loft and now it's Link's turn to frown, neck craning way back so he can see Rhett's face from his still-seated position.

"Your back acting up?" he asks, knowing that Rhett tends to favour stretching out on the mattress over any other furniture when he's having a particularly rough pain-management day.

"Not too bad," Rhett answers, scratching a hand through his beard. "How about your shoulder? It achin'?"

It is, actually, now that Link's thinking about it.

"Ugh, yeah." He pushes himself out of his chair with an exaggerated huff of exertion, carefully rotating the sore joint a couple of times. "Gosh," he groans when the movement provides no relief, muscles still feeling stiff and tight, "we're fallin' apart, man. Guess we really are turning into old timers now, huh?"

Rhett shoots him a smile as he heads over to the bed and starts toeing off his shoes. "I dunno," he says thoughtfully, making the springs squeak under him when he sits down heavily, "all things considered, forty-two's been pretty good to me so far. We've still got a few good years left in us, I think."

He pats the empty space next to him and Link is quick to take him up on the offer, stopping by the edge of the bed to yank off his own sneakers before he flops down face-first, letting out a low noise of relief when he takes a much needed full-body stretch.

"Best idea we ever had, putting a bed up here," Rhett voices what they're both thinking, swinging his feet up onto the bed and settling down flat next to Link.

With Rhett reclined on his back and Link facing down on his belly, they probably look like the two sides of a coin, Link thinks, amused by the thought. Rhett's heads to his tails. Or maybe more like beard vs. butt.

He laughs a little to himself, tilting his head to the side until he gets an eyeful of Rhett's shoulder. He'll probably get a kick out of that, Link thinks. It's just the kind of dumb observation Rhett loves.

"You're heads, I'm tails," he mumbles half into the cushion of his folded arms. "Beard vs. butt."

Sure enough, Rhett snickers, head tipping back into his pillow as he chuckles up at the ceiling. Link watches the way his Adam's apple jumps below the neatly trimmed edge of his beard and grins, grateful to have someone so in tune with his weirdness, the joke had barely required any explanation. 

"There's probably something we can do with that," Rhett muses, tapping his fingers on his stomach. "Beard vs. butt. Got a nice ring to it."

"Like a feats of strength thing," Link contributes, catching Rhett's meaning. "That's good. I'll add it to the notes later."

"It was your idea." Rhett tips his head to the side until they're both looking at each other. His eyes look sleepy and warm and Link kind of wants to live on this bed with him forever, daydreaming and brainstorming like wildly imaginative six year olds all over again. "You should be complimenting yourself."

"Good job, me," Link breathes, attention still mainly focused on watching Rhett's face.

Rhett laughs at that and rolls over onto his side, facing Link fully. The tip of his nose almost brushes Link's bent elbow like this, not quite touching but Link swears he can feel the heat anyway.

"How's that shoulder doing?" Rhett asks, voice a low murmur. "If it's bad I can go grab an ice pack, or..." He just kind of lets the rest of the sentence drop off, and Link's curiosity is all kinds of piqued, to say the least.

Keeping his voice steady even though his pulse is starting to feel oddly jumpy, he prompts, "Or what?"

Thankfully, Rhett doesn't shy away from finishing his thought this time.

"Or," he says slowly, eyes flicking up to meet Link's, "I could try something."

"Something like what?" Link's voice definitely isn't steady this time. Couldn't get it leveled out even if he tried.

Like the cryptic asshole he is, all Rhett does is smile this smirky little smile and ask, "Do you trust me?"

It would be weird to say _with my life_ , Link knows, so instead he just nods - well, as much of a nod as he can manage with his head still laying on his forearms.

"Okay. Stay right where you are," Rhett instructs, pushing himself upright and rearranging his long limbs until he's kneeling next to Link's hip.

Link is pretty sure he stops breathing for a while, oddly anxious as he waits for Rhett's plan to unveil itself, but all Rhett does is keep on kneeling there, quietly staring down at him. Maybe working out some kind of game plan in his head.

Eventually, right when Link's feeling perilously close to having his entire soul vibrate straight outta his body, Rhett finally says, "Take your shirt off," and his voice is so deep, every inch of Link's skin instantly erupts into a million goosebumps.

His brain flat out quits working for a solid minute or two and he just lays there, heart thumping and mind humming with static-y white noise before everything slowly reboots and his mouth manages to fumble out something resembling human words.

"Uh, okay."

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and awkwardly tugs his t-shirt over his head, goosebumps back in full force once the air-conditioned chill of the loft hits his bare skin. When he lays back down this time, he's grateful for the little bit of a barrier his folded arms provide, letting him press one heated cheek into the back of his hand and hide his steadily growing blush from Rhett.

"I'm gonna give you a massage," Rhett explains, mattress dipping as he knee-walks closer to Link's side, until the top of one warm and scratchy jean-covered thigh is brushing up against Link's bare ribs, making him twitch for reasons that are only half-related to ticklishness.

Oh gosh.

Link's definitely got a full blush developing now so he ducks his entire face into his forearms and lets out an unsteady _mm-hmm_ of acknowledgement. It's not the most comfortable position with his glasses on, but he's got a feeling that not hiding would feel even more uncomfortable right now.

Man, Rhett hasn't even laid a finger on him and things are already feeling _intense._

"We don't have lotion or anything up here, huh?" Rhett wonders out loud, apparently oblivious to Link's ongoing internal crisis. "Might be too dry if I just use my hands."

"You have the sweatiest hands on the planet," Link lifts his head to point out, because it's the honest-to-god truth and he takes great joy in reminding Rhett of just how much of a freak of nature he is at every given opportunity.

Rhett laughs and plants one hot (and yes, weirdly damp) palm directly on the centre of Link's back, making him jolt in surprise. "You're telling me that you, Mr. Personal Hygiene, are completely fine with having your entire back covered in my hand sweat?"

"Thought you were only doin' my shoulder," Link shoots back, trying to ignore the pleasantly heavy weight of Rhett's hand that's still resting on his back. It's pretty nice, despite the sweat. "But if I'm gonna get the full treatment, I think there's stuff you could use in the desk drawer."

It's both a relief and a disappointment when Rhett lifts his hand then, the steady presence of his body next to Link's disappearing too as he crawls off the end of the bed and goes to investigate the contents of the little writing desk they've got situated in the corner. 

Link listens to Rhett dig around in the drawer and wonders how he's ever gonna survive this. A friendly shoulder rub is one thing, but Link's already half naked and now they're bringing _supplies_ into the mix. Goodness.

When Rhett returns, he's holding a little glass bottle of their Mythical beard oil and Link laughs when he sees it, making Rhett grin in return.

"It was that or an old pack of gum," Rhett tells him, climbing back onto the bed and shuffling up to Link's side.

"Good choice." Link wriggles around, making himself more comfortable before adding, "Warm it up in your hands or somethin' first, unless you wanna hear me screech like a little girl."

Rhett raises his eyebrows in mock surprise as he unscrews the top of the bottle. "You're giving me permission to use the sweat ovens?"

" _Sweat ovens?_ You're such a dork, man," Link laughs, trying to kick one leg out enough to hit Rhett. The angle's too sharp and he can't make contact, but the sentiment's there.

"Alright - stop kicking, I'm gonna start," Rhett informs him, and then he does something that absolutely blows all the remaining pieces of Link's already scattered mind: he swings one long leg over Link's body and straddles his ass.

"Woah," Link blurts as half a dozen new contact points all light up inside his body at once. The insides of Rhett's knees pressed tight against his hips, the pressure of Rhett's ass practically sitting on top of his own, the hot, heavy weight of his hands spread out wide across the backs of Link's shoulder blades.

It's...it's a lot.

Instantly it feels like the wave of lighthearted teasing they'd been riding comes crashing down, laughter and banter sucked out of the room with a vacuum, leaving behind an oddly tense sort of quiet.

Maybe Rhett feels it too because his voice is low and unusually serious when he asks, "Doin' okay?"

Link shivers under him. "Yep," he says, not trusting himself with more than one-word answers at this point.

Rhett makes a humming noise in his throat but doesn't say anything else, instead starting to work at Link's sore shoulder, applying a good amount of pressure as he glides slick hands over aching muscles, making Link clench his jaw for a moment, enduring that initial unpleasant starting point where the touch is coming across as more pain than pleasure.

It's not long though before the scale tips over heavily into the pleasure zone. Once Rhett's got the biggest knot worked out Link breathes out a long breath and feels himself melt into the mattress like an overcooked noodle.

"S'good," he mumbles, letting his eyes slide shut as Rhett's fingers dig into the tension at the base of his neck. Gosh, Rhett's really got the best hands for this; wide and strong and a little calloused from his guitar. If the whole internetainment thing ever fizzles out, he could be killin' it in the massage industry.

Link is roughly 30% flesh and bone, 70% goo by the time Rhett moves on from his upper shoulders, dragging his hands up and down Link's lats in a slow, repetitive motion that has Link groaning out loud in approval. In fact, his body seems to approve of everything so heartily, it's beginning to cause a bit of a...situation in the front of his jeans.

He takes a few deep breaths and tries to ignore it, but the next time Rhett's hands slide down low he can't help rocking forward into the mattress for a bit of relief.

Rhett immediately freezes and that's when Link remembers that the guy is pretty much seated on top of his ass. Surely he's gonna feel any little movement Link's hips make.

Crap.

He feels Rhett readjust, shifting to lift all of his weight up and this is it, Link thinks, annoyed with himself. He's gone and ruined it. Rhett is gonna stop and this'll be another one of those things that neither of them acknowledge until at least a decade down the road, when it finally feels safe to unearth the memory and laugh about it. Just like that house party way back in their teenage years, when they'd made eye contact with each other while making out with two girls and just...held it. Not looking away.

It's been a good twenty years since that night but replaying it in his head still makes Link's skin go all weirdly hot. He wonders if Rhett thinks about it as often as he still does.

Now, though, Rhett surprises him - not stopping but instead resettling his weight further down, sitting along the backs of Link's thighs.

"Still okay?" Rhett's voice is almost a whisper when it comes out, quiet and raspy in a way that isn't doing much to help Link's jeans situation.

"You-" Wow his mouth's dry. Link has to swallow twice before he's able to fully get the words out. "You can keep going. If you want."

Two seconds of silence tick by, empty except for the sound of Rhett's measured breathing above him.

"Do _you_ want?" Rhett eventually counters, bringing his hands back down onto Link's exposed back, fingers stilling an inch from where the band of Link's underwear is peeking out of the top of his jeans.

Honestly, there's very little Link wants _more_ in this moment.

"Yeah," he says as casually as he can manage. "Sure."

"Okay." Rhett's hands lift away for a minute, long enough for him to twist open the bottle of oil again, Link figures, because when they do come back they're just the right amount of slippery to glide all the way down his spine in one smooth, long movement, making him shiver as he suppresses the urge to rock into the mattress again.

God, this is the worst. The worst and the best.

"Okay," Link echoes, barely recognizing his own voice at this point.

Rhett keeps going with those slow, drawn-out sweeping motions for a long time, lulling Link into such a relaxed state, it feels like he could easily fall asleep. Or unconsciously start humping the bed again. If it's gonna be one of those things, he sure hopes it's the former. 

Luckily, before that theory can be tested, Rhett's hands are on the move again, this time dipping confidently to the low of Link's back, the heels of his palms rubbing in deep just above the waist of Link's jeans and _oh._ That spot is a direct, express line traveling straight to his pleasure centre. Good lord.

So much for falling asleep. Link's stomach automatically clenches and his dick gives one heavy, hot throb in his jeans, drawing an embarrassing noise from his throat.

It's obvious this time - he knows it is - so he's fully expecting Rhett to freeze all over again. To quit or tease him or do something to diffuse the moment, but nothing ever comes.

Instead Rhett exhales, long and a little shaky, before he leans more of his weight forward into Link's body and doubles down on that spot, making Link groan all over again. 

"Oh god," he chokes out and there's nothing he can do this time, not a single thing that could stop him from grinding his hips down hard. It's just too good.

His face feels like it's on fire, more embarrassed than he's been in a long while, so he tucks his head into his arms and tries to calm his crazy heartbeat before he passes out or something.

Rhett still hasn't said a word but his breath's coming out ragged and when he next shifts his legs, it puts his crotch in direct contact with Link's ass. There's a distinctly warm, hard bulge there and just like that, Link isn't the only one with a jeans situation anymore.

Knowing that Rhett's affected by this too is like a shock to the system, a jolt in his bloodstream that makes Link feel a whole lot bolder, so he sheds the last of the apprehension he'd been hanging onto and lets his hips rock with less shame, pressing down and then easing back up to rub blatantly against Rhett in a way that can't be interpreted as anything other than sexual.

He's not sure what kind of reaction he's going to get, but it's certainly not a disappointing one.

Rhett's the one who's groaning this time, sliding both hands across Link's back and down to his sides, gripping tightly at his waist. His fingers are so long and with Link's hips being more on the slimmer side, his fingertips come to rest teasingly close to Link's groin. Not actually touching, but making Link's whole body fizzle with the possibility of it happening. It's like torture in the best, most frustrating way.

Link moves again, less experimental and more purposeful now that he's got Rhett's fingers flexing on his bare skin, Rhett's groans in his ear reassuring him that what they're doing is okay. More than okay, even.

When Rhett meets him halfway on the next thrust, the hard line of his dick slotting up perfectly against Link's ass, it's like someone grabbed a hold of Link's libido with both hands and forcibly cranked the dial all the way up from a 9 to an off-the-charts 15.

He loses full control of his brain-to-mouth filter at that point, hands clenching in the bedspread and mouth dropping open in equal parts shock and pleasure. " _Oh_ \- god, Rhett - do that again, please, _please_ -" 

Rhett swears under his breath, gripping Link's hips even tighter and pulling him back just as he grinds forward, hard and dirty and _god_ , Link is gonna come any freaking second, it's so good, feels so-

"Flip over," Rhett begs, speaking at last with a voice that sounds like gravel, rough and deep in an octave Link's never heard from him before, "fuck, Link-"

It's a scramble of limbs for a moment, pushing and pulling and all kinds of desperation, until Link lands flat on his back, breathless and wanting and so hard it _hurts_.

They don't waste any time, Link surging up as Rhett bends down and then they're kissing for the first time ever and how, a distant part of Link's brain wonders, is this only happening now? It's so - Rhett is so - they should've been doin' this twenty years ago, is the point he's trying to make. It's thrilling and messy and surprisingly natural in a way that should scare him, but because this is Rhett and Rhett'll never steer him wrong, he has no trouble putting all of his trust into it. Into him.

He slides both hands up into Rhett’s hair and curls his fingers, gripping hard enough to draw Rhett’s head back until their mouths part and Rhett’s jawline stands out in sharp contrast, the vulnerable skin of his throat on full display.

Rhett’s panting hard and a flush is starting to creep up his neck but he makes no comment, letting Link do whatever he wants. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy, staring down at Link like he’s drunk or something.

It’s crazy to think that Link’s responsible for putting that look there. Trippy. Kinda empowering.

Rhett looks so damn good like this, Link’s body is already in motion before his brain even realizes it, pushing up and mouthing at the smooth, warm skin just below the line of his beard.

Rhett makes a rumbling noise in response and drops one hand down to start fumbling with the button at the top of Link's jeans. "Is this okay?” he murmurs, fingers stilling before he actually pops the button.

Pushing up into Rhett's hand, Link detaches his mouth from Rhett’s neck long enough to retort, “What do you think?”

Physically feeling the way Rhett's answering laugh vibrates through his chest, his throat, his lips, is possibly the best sensation Link's ever experienced. He's always loved making Rhett laugh but there's an extra intimacy to it like this, a tender sort of warmth that curls right up in the centre of Link's chest and settles there, all cozy and content.

"Shoulda known you'd be mouthy like this," Rhett comments, still chuckling as he unbuttons Link's jeans and starts dragging the zipper down, "you're mouthy enough all the rest of the time."

There's fondness written all over his face as he says it, so Link graciously lets that one slide.

"Move," he mumbles, trying to simultaneously kiss Rhett again and get his own hand wedged down between their bodies, bumping Rhett's forearm out of the way to make more space. "I wanna do you too."

Rhett huffs out another laugh against Link's mouth, kissing him deeply for a few long seconds before drawing back enough to grin. "Not gonna complain about that."

Unbuttoning Rhett's pants is a bit of a surreal experience. Sure they've seen each other naked at multiple points over the years, but doing it _to_ Rhett in a way that's 100% intentional is a whole other ballgame. Link can't resist brushing the backs of his knuckles over the sliver of Rhett's exposed stomach when he's done, hearing him breathe in sharp as his ab muscles contract. God, he wants to get his mouth all over Rhett after this. See what other reactions he can get Rhett to give him.

He helps Rhett tug his jeans down then lifts his own hips off the mattress just long enough for Rhett to yank them down too. When Rhett sits back on his heels and reaches to pull his shirt up and over his head, Link stares at him unabashedly, taking in all that skin, the familiar spattering of freckles on his shoulders, the way his hair's gone all rumpled and wavy after dragging his shirt over it.

It's a hell of a sight.

"Get back here," he murmurs, feeling sentimental all of a sudden in a way that makes his throat go a little tight.

Rhett's answering smile is all soft around the edges, probably recognizing the tone of Link's voice as he stretches out over top of him again, lowering his weight down until Link's covered in a Rhett-sized weighted blanket. He's never tried one before, but he thinks he gets what the all the hype's about now.

It's a lot of skin on skin contact and Link's heart should be fit to burst right out of his chest from the craziness of it all, but instead he's oddly calm.

...well, his heart _is_ pounding, but it's definitely not out of fear.

"Hey," Rhett grins down at him from barely an inch away, tips of their noses almost touching.

Gosh, he's such a freakin' dork. Link fully, entirely loves this man.

"Hey yourself." He can tell he's grinning just as stupidly as Rhett, so maybe they deserve each other. Two dorky peas in a life-long pod.

Rhett's gaze slowly flickers between Link's eyes and his mouth a few times, and the fire that's been slowly kindling in Link's stomach burns all the more hotter when Rhett admits, "You look so damn good like this, Neal."

Link slides one hand up into Rhett's hair and lets the other settle low across his back, just because he can. He's allowed to do that now. And it's _awesome_. "Show me how much you like it," he says, a little surprised by his own boldness, not to mention just how husky his voice seems to've gotten.

It's the right thing to say; Rhett makes a noise deep in his throat and dips down to kiss him again, angling the bulk of his weight onto one elbow so he can slip the other arm back between their bodies. There's no teasing, no hesitation this time. When his hand finds the band of Link's underwear it slips right under and Link lets out a long, shaky exhale as Rhett's fingers curl around his dick for the first time; a firm, hot pressure that's so good, Link's a little afraid he's going to embarrass himself before things even get started. 

"Shit," he breaks the kiss to breathe against Rhett's mouth, thrusting up into the tight grip, the motion made smoother by the leftover oil that's still coating Rhett's hands. "That's...yeah."

He can feel Rhett smile against his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Link repeats, because there appears to be a direct correlation between the faster Rhett's hand moves and the dumber Link's brain gets. Honestly though, he'd challenge anyone to keep their wits about them while being on the receiving end of a Rhett McLaughlin hand job. It can't be scientifically done, probably.

"I wanna feel you," he says, accidentally banging the corner of his glasses into Rhett's cheek when he tries to look down between their bodies. As good as this is - and gosh is it good - he's been dying to get his own hands on Rhett ever since he first stripped off his shirt. "C'mon man, show me the goods."

Rhett huffs out a laugh that turns into a strained hiss when Link presses his palm to the front of his underwear, feeling the line of Rhett's cock. He's fully hard, bigger than Link remembers from surreptitious glances stolen in their college dorm room, at the gym, even once or twice in the work bathroom when they're showering off something particularly nasty after filming.

Is it normal to want to look at your best friend's dick so desperately? Now that he thinks about it, Link probably should have seen this whole sexual attraction thing coming from a mile away, even with his bad eyesight.

"Link," Rhett groans, letting his forehead drop down to rest against Link's when Link pulls him free of his underwear and gives him one long, slow stroke that ends with Link's thumb rubbing circles into the wetness that's already beginning to gather at the tip.

Rhett shudders against him, tucking his face into the side of Link's neck as he breathes out ragged breaths and wow, bringing a six-foot-seven man to his knees with one touch is so absurdly hot, it's about to give Link a complex. He's gonna win every one of their arguments this way now.

He presses his nose into Rhett's hair and closes his eyes, overwhelmed by...well, everything. Rhett's hand on him. His hand on Rhett. The general enormity of what they're doing together. How really freaking good it all feels.

"Jeez, Rhett," he mumbles, getting a mouthful of Rhett's hair in the process but not really caring, "you're so...god, I can't even-"

"Yeah," Rhett agrees thickly, beard scratching against the curve of Link's neck when he speaks, making Link shiver. He's always been good at that, knowing exactly what Link means even when Link doesn't always know it himself.

Then Rhett kisses the side of his jaw, slides his mouth up to Link's ear and murmurs so matter-of-factly he might as well've been penciling something into their work schedule, "Gonna make you come now."

Oh fuck.

"Not _\- oh_ \- not gonna have to try hard," Link manages, pressing his head back into the pillow and swallowing roughly. Feels like a strong breeze could be enough to have him losing it right now.

Rhett chuckles and lifts his head back up so he can gaze down at Link, grinning and bright-eyed and not really helping Link's current condition, especially not when he teases, "You sayin' you're easy for me, Neal?"

His accent comes out more pronounced like this; a low, sweet drawl that makes Link's insides turn to liquid, every ounce of blood in his body instantly heading south to pool in his already-flushed dick.

"You're killin' me, man," Link laughs weakly, transforming into a groan half way through when Rhett shifts the slow, steady pace of his hand, moving from exploratory and teasing to direct and purposeful, jacking Link off in earnest.

They both can't help but look down and watch, take in the way the head of Link's cock slips in and out of sight as Rhett moves his fist, how the tanned skin of Rhett's wrist has gone wet and shiny with how much Link's leaking all over him.

It's obscene. And Link is so into it.

"Yeah I'm easy for you," he murmurs, voice unsteady as his eyes lazily climb up to fix on Rhett's forearm, how the toned muscles are flexing with each pull of his hand, then higher still, to the hard swell of his bicep and the way his hair's started curling forward over his forehead. Dang. Objectively, part of him knew that Rhett was handsome, but this...this feels like an entirely different plane of attractiveness. New heights that were previously undiscovered. "Always gonna be," he finishes, a few beats too late but true nonetheless.

"Shit, Link." Rhett's eyes flick up and lock onto his, twisting his wrist just right on the next upstroke, and just like that it's all over for Link.

He barely gets any warning before the heat that's been coiling low in his stomach suddenly roars to life and bursts like a white-hot firework. Link moans, hips pushing up on instinct as he comes like that, hard, with no air left in his lungs but so much fullness in his chest as Rhett murmurs a string of encouragements and works him through it with tight, perfect strokes.

Can an orgasm be profound? Because Link swears he felt that all the way down to his core.

By the time he's got his breath back and his limbs have regained most of their feeling, all he can do is blink his vision back into line and pant out, "Oh wow."

Rhett lets out a soft huff of amusement that sounds a little shaky at the edges, strained with his own need to finish, so Link tries to get his head back together so he can give it back to Rhett just as good as he got it.

At some point during the haze of his impending orgasm his hand had dropped away from Rhett, so now Rhett's got his own hand wrapped around his dick - the hand that Link just came all over, he notices - and god, if Link was fifteen years younger he'd be ready to go all over again thanks to that visual.

"Gosh, look at you," he breathes, sliding his hand over top of Rhett's and guiding him to squeeze tighter, move faster. "You're so ready to come, aren't you? You gonna do it all over me?"

"Christ, the mouth on you." Rhett lets out another uneven laugh, though it's really more of a groan than anything else at this point. "Who's killing who here?"

Link grins. "Two-way street, baby," he teases, feeling Rhett shudder against him the closer and closer he gets. Every few thrusts the head of his cock brushes up against Link's stomach, leaving a trail of sticky wetness behind as Rhett makes a series of low, desperate noises in the back of his throat.

"Fuck." Rhett's eyes squeeze shut as his whole body starts to tense up. "Yeah, there - there," he gasps as Link grips him tighter, angles his dick to rub more insistently against the flat of Link's lower belly, and then Link can feel the sudden flood of warmth, the hot ropes of come striping his stomach as Rhett comes all over them both.

They stare at the wet mess on their stomachs and Link lets out a laugh that's high and breathy, half delirious, half hysterical. They really just did that. Good gracious.

Rhett laughs along with him - or maybe _at_ him, since he can never keep a straight face whenever Link breaks into those high-pitched giggles - and rolls to Link's right, dropping all his weight down onto the mattress with an exhausted, sated sigh.

Link instantly misses the comforting heaviness of him, but Rhett doesn't move far, still close enough that their arms are pressed tight together from shoulder to elbow, one leg nestled in between Link's own.

Codependent as always. The thought makes Link smile.

It must be a goofy, smitten kind of smile because Rhett reaches for his face - with his non-come-y hand, Link's happy to note - rubs his thumb along Link's cheekbone, then draws him forward into a kiss.

It's so easy this time. Lazy. Relaxed. Their mouths moving together slow and unhurried unlike the frantic, hard press of lips and nipping teeth they'd both resorted to earlier. Rhett's beard tickles, the texture slightly scratchy in contrast to how surprisingly soft his lips are, and Link's obsessed with the combination already.

When they eventually part, pulling in air and foreheads touching, Rhett wonders against his mouth, "Should I be freaking out? Cause I'm not freaking out."

"Me neither," Link admits, sliding one hand around the back of Rhett's neck and dragging his nails up to scratch through the mess of wild, curly hair there. When he takes stock of everything, it's kinda shocking to find that there isn't a single ounce of new anxiety pinballing around inside his body right now. Like someone hit a temporary snooze button on his brain. Huh.

Rhett makes a happy, rumbling noise and scoots closer, silent encouragement for Link to keep playing with his hair, Link figures. "Nap first, figure the rest out later," he says, laying his head down on Link's shoulder.

Link is the notorious nap-anywhere one in their relationship, so to hear Rhett suggest it now makes him grin, something big and warm and fond swelling inside his chest like a sunshine-filled balloon.

He tucks his head down, pressing his grin into the top of Rhett's hair and letting his eyes go closed, murmuring out a quiet _yeah_ of agreement.

They've got the time. And there's still a lot more touching they've gotta cross off their list.


End file.
